TEA's Hernia
Experience

Mid November, 2001: So there I stood in my
shower checking out these two puffy bulges just above my leg creases.
They seemed to have gotten larger over the summer and I can't exactly
remember when I first noticed them. I sat down behind my overpriced
computer that day and began a search. My first instinct turned out to
be right on the nose. A hernia... actually, two. I remember feeling a
burning pain in the area earlier in the year while doing something
(lifting?) and when I stopped straining and stood up I said to myself
"I better be careful, I could get a hernia." The web was a huge
resource of information on hernias. Hernia patient discussion sites
were helpful because they told it like it was. No bull. There were
plenty of stories, and a lot of them were bad. I'm sure it was
because the good stories were never told. Hernia's can occur in
anybody at any age. A weakness in the abdominal wall gives way at
some point, sometimes during a strain, like lifting, and then there's
a hole in the wall. This allows your guts (intestines) to begin to
bulge out of the abdominal cavity. Now hernias can occur in a number
of places in the body. Mine were called Ingurinal hernias in
reference to the region of the body. If left alone they would never
heal, only get worse. It was possible that at some point my guts
could bulge out and the hole would pinch down, strangulating the
hernia and causing major trouble... possibly death. My only option
was to have them fixed asap. Luckily I had health insurance. I saw my
family doctor and he officially confirmed the diagnosis. By the way
guys, turning your head is only because the doctor doesn't want you
to cough on him. I had already studied up on the possible procedures
and techniques and tried to ask my doctor more specific questions,
but this seemed only to perturb him. Who was I to know about medical
things that HE didn't know about? He did know about the Scholstice
Clinic, a hernia surgical hospital in Canada. I did some research on
that, as well as some others around the world. Seemed that there was
some controversy about using the Lapriscope for hernia surgeries, and
the actual techniques for repairing them were also being updated
every year. I learned that having an experienced hernia surgeon was
Key to success. Someone who had more than 50 under his belt...no pun
intended. The old surgeries would just open you up, push back the
gut, stitch the opening closed. A mesh of some polycarbonate was
found to reinforce the mend. Lapricscopic surgeries came along and
patients would no longer have these huge scars, yet there were many
more risks involved. All of these surgeries would be under General
Anesthetic, and would sometimes leave the patients with lifelong
lingering nerve pains. I'm not even going to mention some of the
Horror stories about complications and incompetent surgeons. Ah yes,
and one more item to be aware of, most of these patients were told
they could never lift heavy objects ever again. The repairs had a
5-10% recurrence rate, meaning they would tear open and have to be
fixed, which was a bad situation.

The Canadian clinic was using the
Lapriscope, so they were out, as well as all of the surgeons I
contacted in Colorado and Utah, so I began my search for an out of
state surgeon. I read about a technique that was superior to anything
else before it. It was so new, that there weren't many surgeons
trained to do it yet. The British Hernia Institute in London had been
using a brilliant new method of repairing hernias. They were a Hernia
dedicated Surgical Clinic that used a type of mesh that would patch
the hole in a short, out-patient procedure under local anesthetic,
reducing the costs and risks tremendously. Their results were
shortened recovery times, no lingering pains, guaranteed to not fail,
and best of all, their patients could return to their
normal

lifestyles. I was sold. I was actually going
to try to get to London for this surgery when they referred me to
their mother, the Lichtenstein Institute in LA, California. This is
the place that they learned their techniques from. But when I called
them (or whoever answered the phone) was rude to me, so that was
that. Luckily I found another place that used a similar technique
from a web search. The Florida Hernia Institute, in Miami. They had
developed an even better technique using their patented mesh implant.
Their recurrence rate(chance of failing) was 0.3%. When I called they
were so nice and helpful. I began the process of setting up my
surgery. December was out, couldn't get the airplane ticket and hotel
reservations and pre-op tests scheduled before the holidays, so I
decided on mid Jan... Unfortunately my insurance increased the
monthly premium by an additional $150.00 in the new year, so I just
bit the bullet for Jan. Luckily, my lowest bid for a plane ticket on
Priceline.com came through at $179.00 round trip to Miami. Car rental
for a week at $89. Things were looking good. Hotel's, though, ughhh.
what a nightmare, but I was ready to wing it. The doctors said that I
may be able to walk away from the procedure, but repairing both sides
was going to be tough on my body. They were going to have to keep me
in the hospital for one night, and that was fine with me. Just before
I flew out of Denver I called my Biological Mother and Grandmom in
Sarasota, Florida, about four hours away from Miami by car. I told
them about the surgery, and that I might be able to drive out to
visit them while recovering. I should have known better. My Mom began
to make all sorts of changes in my itinerary- return the car, change
the flight, they would drive out and get me, etc... it was a
nightmare on top of my best laid plans. I was being MOTHERED. Imagine
the embarrassment of having the hotel clerk tell you in front of a
long line of customers that "Your Mother just called for you "...I
hadn't visited them in years and the thought of me being so close and
not staying for a week was out of the question. So I just went along
with it.

My worst fears were not met. I didn't have
to starve myself for a whole day before the surgery. I bought a
disposable camera in hopes of getting some surgery shots to show
everyone. The nurses were told not to do this by their bosses, but
they couldn't resist my charm. They did an Epidural anesthetic (nerve
blocker) to numb my entire lower half and I hardly felt any of the
needles. I remember becoming conscious during the procedure, which
was normal, and I could only imagine what was going on behind the
curtain across my chest. I was so relaxed I began to chat with them.
I think they were messing with me though, playing word games. "Hey,
wait. What was that? I could feel that Doc!" There were sensations
coming from my abdomen and I knew I wasn't going to just bear it. "
What? This?" He said as I felt slightly painful jolt from the wound.
" Umm, let's go ahead and increase the flow on tho.. toho ,t, astoh,
ast....t.." and I faded out again. I could hear them arguing about
the flash on my camera, "... the flash didn't go off, you have to
flip that switch", " no, it's on. I saw it. Didn't you see it", " No
way. Loot at the switch. Do you see a little flashing light..." I
began to wonder if I had made an unwise decision about the camera...
" All done! Pack him up." and there was a hooray and some clapping
from the nurses. I got ahold of my camera again and snapped a parting
shot of smiling faces as they wheeled me out of the operating room. I
was so relaxed, yet conscious. I couldn't move my legs, but could
barely wiggle my right toe.

Everything was fine. My roommate was nice,
and the nurses were too. Food was, well, 'hospital food'. When the
pain came back they gave me Percaset (sp?) and it made me nauseous.
If I would have spewed it would have been hellishly painful on my
wounds. Luckily it passed and the doctor prescribed a shot of Tigan
next time. The night shift nurse came in. She was tough, stern, and
old school to the max. She tried to get me up out of bed, but it was
no use, I almost puked from the pain alone and I wasn't going to get
that pain pill unless I fought for it. And talk about pay for that
shot of Tigan. That thing was throbbing in my butt all night. She was
much more merciful with the needle the next time. The next morning
she again tried to get me up. I knew I had to and made a valiant
effort and was sitting up in a bedside chair by 8 am. Slowly I could
stand, and slowly I could take a step. Breakfast came and I used the
food tray as a walker. Pretty soon I was moving down the corridors
with a little rolling I.V. stand, just like in the movies. My wounds
didn't have any stitches. They used this Crazy Glue called Dermabond
to close me up, so there were only these thin lines. I could feel the
implants like stiff plates taking up space. My surgeon visited me and
told me some ugly facts about how the wounds were going to heal, like
blood settling down into my privates turning them all black and blue.
He said things would get worse before getting better and I would be
cursing his name for another two weeks, but things did get
better.

My Mom picked me up a little later and we
returned my rental, drove to Sarasota where my grandmom was eagerly
awaiting with a nice soft bed for me to spend the next five days
recovering in. The weather was wonderful, and so was the setting.
Much better than a hotel room all by myself.

Today it has been exactly two weeks and I'm
going great. I'm walking around, driving, shoveling snow, doing light
work. I'm looking forward to going caving as soon as I can, and even
snowboarding sometime when there's actually decent snow around
here.